


Turbulence

by BekkaChaos



Series: Gallavich Drabbles [136]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fear of Flying, Gallavich, Gallavich AU, M/M, alternative universe, plane AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekkaChaos/pseuds/BekkaChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><b>based on a prompt:</b> please make this gallavich au: mickey is a nervous flyer and ian is a random seat mate <3</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turbulence

Mickey exhaled heavily, tapping his hands in a restless manner on his thighs. He was already strapped in, only his second flight ever and he was hating it before they’d even started moving.

At least it wasn’t like the flight over, he’d been in the tiny bathroom throwing up for almost the entire thing. Every time he got up and back to his seat he sat for about five minutes before stumbling back up the isle to cough and splutter over the toilet again.

This time he was on his way home and he stared out at the runway, the cars driving around, transporting luggage and small people in orange vests. Everyone was acting like this was no big fucking deal, but Mickey’s palms were sweating profusely and he felt nauseated.

This was going to be one long four hour flight.

He tried to stay calm and cool, wiping his sweaty forehead and letting out another heavy breath.

They were about to start the taxi out to the runway when someone came and sat in the isle seat beside Mickey and he just looked at the guy.

"Hey," the guy said as he sat down, shooting Mickey a smile.

Mickey gave him a smile in return, more of a grimace really and went back to staring out through the window and tapping his hands.

It was another few minutes before the plane jolted into movement and Mickey stiffened up and clenched his fists, leaning his head back against the seat.

They were barely moving but his stomach was already churning.

The guy next to him looked over with concern, maybe it was worry that Mickey wasn’t feeling well, maybe he was just scared that Mickey was going to throw up in his lap.

"You okay?" he asked.

Mickey nodded, swallowing hard and waving his hand at the stranger. “Yeah, yeah.”

"You sure?" he said.

"I’m fine alright, just gotta get it over with," he said, the plane turning to face the runway.

"Nervous flyer?" he asked.

"What? You ain’t nervous getting into a big cylindrical piece of tin that weighs like three hundred fucking tonnes?" Mickey asked.

The plane began to start firing up and Mickey closed his eyes.

"Well yeah but you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than to go down in a plane crash," the stranger said.

Mickey opened his eyes and glared over at the guy. “You wanna maybe  _not_ talk about crashing while we’re  _in_ a fucking plane?” he said.

"Sorry, just trying to-"

As he tried to finish his sentence the plane began to move, speeding up by the second and Mickey let out a yelp before gripping the arm rests and breathing out in short sharp breaths in quick succession.

"Have you never been on a plane before?" the stranger asked.

Mickey nodded, trying to quell the rising bile in his throat. “Yeah, on the way over,” he said.

"So you live in Chicago?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mickey asked as the plane began it’s ascent. 

"If you focus on something other than flying then maybe you won’t feel the need to vomit and I can get through this flight without worrying that you’re going to do it on me," he said. "So you live in Chicago?"

"Yeah, yeah, born and raised," Mickey said. "Well, born, not so much raised."

"Thrown to the wolves, huh?" he said. "I’m a little the same, though I’m from the South Side so it’s kind of expected."

Mickey looked up at him, “South Side?”

"Born and not so raised," he said with a smile, offering his hand to Mickey. "I’m Ian."

"Mickey," he said. "I’d shake that but I’m sweaty and like hell I’m gonna let go of this fucking chair."

"Until we steady out right?" Ian asked with a smile.

"Until we fucking land," he said and Ian laughed.

"When we level out we should trade places, probably better if you’re in the isle."

"Why, that make it fell like we’re not really flying?" Mickey asked sarcastically.

Ian smiled, “No, but if you’re going to empty your stomach maybe you should be on the outside so you don’t have to jump me to get out.”

Mickey looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. “Jump you?”

"Over," Ian said, closing his eyes and chuckling to himself. "Jump  _over_ me to get out.”

"Uh huh," Mickey said.

Ian shook his head and just sat back in his seat, the two of them sitting in silence until the seatbelt sign was turned off and Mickey seemed to relax, but only a little.

"Did you want to switch?" Ian asked, looking over at Mickey.

"What? You know there are a bunch of other empty seats on this plane, you could take one of them and just not bother," he said.

Ian shrugged. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he said with a small nod, turning to look straight ahead and searched through the seat pocket for some headphones.

Mickey looked over at him and sighed, trying to will himself out of his seat.

"Alright, okay, just let my head stop spinning would you?" he said grumpily.

The plane rattled a little, just some turbulence, and Mickey grunted a little.

"If you hate flying so much why are you on this thing?" Ian asked.

"Didn’t know I hated it until I got on the first one, and I already paid for a return," he said, standing up a little shakily. "Come on then, get your ass up."

Ian stood, using the chairs in front and behind to steady himself as Mickey let out a deep sigh. Ian’s hand moved to the back of his own chair as Mickey took sideways steps to stand in front of him.

There were a few jolts of turbulence and Mickey fell back a little, nearly causing them to fall back into the isle chair. As attractive as Ian was, he didn’t really want to sit in his lap… at least not in front of the other passengers.

Ian chuckled and put his hand in the middle of Ian’s back to push him forward and try to steady him.

"Careful there," he said.

"I’m fine just move the fuck past me," he grumbled as Ian slid out from behind him, the front of his jeans brushing against his ass despite their being more than sufficient space to avoid contact.

"Sorry," Ian said as his hip bumped against Mickey’s ass, another few shakes of the plane making Mickey tighten his grip on the seat in front.

As soon as Ian was out from behind him he sat back down and seemed to sink back into the seat while Ian was just smiling, apparently amused by the whole thing.

"Come on, it’s not that bad," Ian said.

Another wave of turbulence washed over the plane and Ian could see the sweat on Mickey’s forehead. “Wasn’t this bad on the way over…”

"It’s just the weather conditions," Ian said. "It was much worse than this when I went to Ontario."

"The fuck you going to Canada for?" Mickey grumbled.

"I don’t know, why does anyone go anywhere?"

"You gonna get all philosophical or something?"

Ian laughed again. “I guess not. You want me to stop talking?”

"Look, I just ain’t a chatty kind of guy, alright?" Mickey said, his fingers gripping tightly to the arm rest.

Ian nodded, “Okay sure,” he said, pausing for a moment. “What kind of guy are you then?”

Mickey just raised an eyebrow at him and Ian shrugged.

"Alright, I get the point," he said, taking a book out of his carry on bag. "But if the shakes get too much you can always hold my hand."

He laughed and Mickey knew it was a joke, but somehow it felt strangely serious.

Ian spent the next half hour reading from his book while Mickey felt increasingly sicker as each minute went by. He tried not to think about it, in fact he used Ian to try and distract himself by concocting a whole host of fantasies in his head but he was feeling nearly as bad as he did on the flight _to_ Seattle.

When the food service came around Ian finally looked up, worry gracing his face when he saw the ill look on his face.

"You’re still thinking about it aren’t you?" he asked, putting his book down in the pocket behind the seat in front. "Just let go of the damn seat, have some dinner and focus on how shitty it tastes instead of - well, focus on that."

"Sounds great," he said and Ian laughed.

"You must be a delight to spend time with on land," he said as he readjusted his seat, Mickey didn’t respond so Ian sighed. "Look, I know flying can be sort of unnerving, my first flight I spent most of it in the bathroom. It sucked, I mean it really sucked."

"That was me on the way over," Mickey said, "And we still got time on this fuckin’ plane."

“ _Hello_ ,” the stewardess walked over with a smile and Ian returned one that was just as flawless as ever.

"Hi," Ian said.

"We’ve got beef or vegetarian as an option today-"

“ _Fuck_ …” Mickey mumbled, looking fairly green.

"We’re fine," Ian said quickly. "We’re all good."

"Are you sure there’s nothing-"

"Honestly, we’re fine, thank you," Ian said and she seemed to get the idea because she moved onto the next row of passengers.

"Don’t fuckin’ starve yourself because I ain’t eatin," Mickey said.

Ian smiled. “It’s a short flight, I’m sure I can survive. Besides, the last thing I want is to get some food only to have you empty your stomach everywhere.”

"If I was going to vomit I would have done it by now," he grumbled. "Call her back, get something to fuckin’ eat."

"Not hungry," Ian shrugged.

"Liar."

"Not a lie, maybe it’s all the vomit talk," he said and Mickey almost managed to smile.

"Well there goes your plan for eatin’ to distract myself," Mickey said and Ian shrugged.

"Maybe you could be the chatty guy after all, tell me about yourself," he said.

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him. “Not gonna happen.”

"Oh come on, we can get a whole lot of those little bottles of liquor and find a drinking game to play, that way when you get off the plane reeking of vomit you can at least pretend it was motion sickness mixed with excessive alcohol consumption," Ian grinned.

"You just don’t quit do you?"

"Or you could read something," Ian said and Mickey scoffed.

"I’ll give you twenty questions if you promise to shut the fuck up after," he said, kind of hoping that if the stranger took the deal he wouldn’t stick to it.

"Alright, first question, do you find me attractive?" he said with an arrogant smile and Mickey laughed louder than he had in a while.

"Thought you wanted me to tell you about  _myself_?” Mickey said. _  
_

"Oh I will, I just thought I’d get the important questions over with first," Ian said, nodding a little with a cheeky glint in his eye.

"New rule, I get veto power," Mickey said and Ian pouted.

"Three vetos, that’s it," he said.

"Eight."

Ian laughed, “No, you’ll just get yourself out of all the good questions.”

"Fine, three, but not including that one and I ain’t answering it," he said and Ian smiled.

"Sure," he said before launching into another question.

Of course he tried to be a smart ass about it, asking really difficult questions first so that Mickey would use up his vetos, but Mickey was stubborn and it took a lot of prying to get answers out of him anyway. Not that Ian minded, he enjoyed their playful banter and Mickey even started to look a little better.

By the time they got to the last question his spirits were a lot higher and he had gotten back some of his snappier humour.

"Last round asshole, better make it good," he said with a  flick of his eyebrow.

"Well, I know about your siblings, I know you like guns and shooting, hmm…" Ian said, putting a hand to his chin. "Would you have looked at me twice if we weren’t stuck on this thing together?"

"Oh come the fuck on, that’s question one again," Mickey said.

"No it’s not and you used your last veto when I asked about any kinks you had," Ian grinned.

"Hey, just because I don’t think you could handle it don’t mean you get to ask the same question twice," Mickey said, biting his bottom lip.

Ian nodded and shrugged, “Okay, sure. You spoil all the fun,” he smiled. “Come on then, hit me up with your questions then.”

Mickey hadn’t even thought that far forward, but he realised that he didn’t really want to stop having this conversation.

The flight wasn’t that long, and Mickey was only a few questions in when the captain came over the speakers to say that they were getting ready for landing.

Suddenly Mickey’s stomach - which had actually made a miraculous recovery up until that point - began to feel tight and nauseous again.

"Fuck, I hate this part," he grumbled.

"Is there anything you don’t hate?" Ian asked. "Or at least is there anything you don’t complain about?"

Mickey thought for a moment, “Sex usually, otherwise not really.”

Ian laughed, clipping the clasps of his seatbelt together over his hips. “There  _is_ such a thing as bad sex though.”

Mickey scoffed, “Maybe for you, sex is sex man.”

Ian didn’t say anything, he just tried to contain his smile and pretended to check his seatbelt again, his cheeks flushing a pale shade of pink.

"What? What’s that dumb-ass look for?" Mickey asked as he readjusted his own belt.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," he said.

The plane gave a small jolt in a downwards direction and Mickey flinched a little.

"Hey, relax okay? It’s just the descent," Ian said.

"Yeah, yeah, I know that," he griped.

"Offer to hold my hand is still on the table," Ian said and Mickey shook his head at him.

"I am  _not_ holding your fuckin’ hand,” he said.

"Suit yourself," Ian said.

There was still a half hour to land at that point and as they got closer and closer Mickey reverted back to his ill phase, despite Ian trying to talk to him as a distraction.

He got really bad jitters as they were closing in on the runway, just five minutes until touchdown.

Ian could see that Mickey was distressed, and though he  _knew_ he was risking life and limb by doing it, he put his hand on Mickey's knee and just kept it there until they finally hit the runway.

Mickey wouldn't usually have let a total stranger do something so strangely intimate, but somehow it made him feel better. Even though they'd joked about the possibility of Mickey vomiting all over the both of them, the last thing he wanted was to do it all over an attractive stranger.

As they sat waiting for the plane to come to a stop Mickey relaxed and gave Ian a brief smile.

"Uh... thanks for... trying to keep my mind off flying I guess," he said.

"That's alright, I actually found it to be a pretty enjoyable flight," he said with a warm smile. "Are you, uh, catching a taxi home?"

Mickey shrugged. "Too expensive, was just gonna catch a bus or the train."

"I parked in long term, I can give you a lift if you want," he offered a little hastily.

"What, so you can ask me more questions about whether I'd fuck you or not?" Mickey asked, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.

Ian's cheeks flushed. "To be fair, I never actually asked you that... not in so many words anyway."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess you can drop me off," he said.

"And maybe you can buy me dinner, seeing as I gave mine up for the sake of your flight sickness," he said.

Mickey laughed. "Oh, I can buy you dinner huh? Maybe I just wanna go home and go to bed."

Ian shrugged. "Well, we could do that do that too, I just didn't want to be so hasty."

This time it was Mickey's turn to blush before he was pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning it on.

"How about you give me a lift home and tomorrow night we can go get a drink or something?" he asked a little uncertainly.

Ian's lips spread into an even larger grin. "Like a date?"

"Fuck you, not a date. Think of it more as me gettin' you liquored up and... you know what, I wont be  _too hasty_ ," he teased.

"By all means, be as hasty as you want," Ian said with a smile, taking Mickey's phone and putting his number in. "You can still buy me a burger on the way back though, I'm starving."

"Yeah well, now that we're back on the ground I'm a little hungry myself," Mickey said, taking his phone and being sure to press 'save'.


End file.
